


sew your heart to my sleeve

by helloearthlings



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Camp Half-Blood, Crossover, Demigods, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1799326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloearthlings/pseuds/helloearthlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur discovers his godly parentage, attends the strangest summer camp there ever was, and deals with all of these annoying feelings he has for a demigod with terrifying and beautiful eyes. And he thought his summer would be dull.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sew your heart to my sleeve

**Author's Note:**

> The great and might Percy Jackson crossover I've been working nonstop on. Oh, God, this is long. Well, long for me, which isn't very long at all. I'm not entirely sure how well this lines up with canon - it takes place after the PJO series but kind of disregards the HOO. I'm not totally up to date on the canon, but hopefully it'll make sense. I worked very hard on this and I love it a lot. If no one likes it I will cry. That being said, I really hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading!

Camp Half-Blood discovered Arthur when he was sixteen years old.

He and Morgana were approached coming out of school doors on the last Friday of the year. About to go meet their father at the end of the block and be whisked away to the Hamptons for three months, neither of them was overly pleased when their stride was interrupted.

“Hello, are you the Pendragons?” A seemingly kindly old man approached them from where he had seemed to be waiting on the steps that led up to Avalon Preparatory Academy. He was older, wizened, with long white hair nearly touching his shoulders.

“Yes,” Arthur begrudgingly answered for both of them, with Morgana scowling a step behind him. He had always been the more polite of the two. “How can we help you? Are you looking for our father?”

The man chuckled, and Arthur was struck with the idea that he was patronizing them. So he frowned even further down upon the man. If he and Morgana were approached by strangers they were nearly always in search of their famous politician father.

“No, I’m looking for the two of you,” the man said with a genuine smile. Arthur exchanged a confused glance with his sister. “I…I am a friend of your family, and would like to discuss the circumstances of your birth.”

Arthur blinked.

It had only gotten more troubling from then on out.

* * *

 

“No, Gaius, I will not have you take my children from me! There is a reason I’ve kept them secret all these years, masked them from the – the _creatures_ that I was warned about. They will not have anything to do with their mothers! Either one of them! Those two women wreaked havoc on my life, and I will not have them take Arthur or Morgana into that awful world of yours. ”

Uther was, to say the least, displeased with the man with the long white hair, apparently named Gaius. After their father had found them talking on the street with the man, who had been explaining some nonsense about birthing and goddesses and discord and interfering with personal affairs, he had dragged them straight back to their estate in upstate New York without a word. Gaius, whoever he was, had followed.

And now the two men were having a screaming match in the kitchen while Arthur and Morgana looked on in complete and utter confusion and, although Arthur would never admit it, a touch of fear.

“It’s time to stop, Uther. To let go. Your children are sixteen – Normal campers come to us by age thirteen. It’s a miracle you’ve avoided detection for this long. But no longer. It’s only a matter of time before one or both of them ends up dead, and you’ll wish you had sent them to us.”

Arthur jolted upward, and before he could stop, inserted himself into the conversation. “Hold up – we could end up dead? One of you needs to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

His father glared at him with disdain, and Arthur felt his blood boil. “This is none of your affair. Yours either, Morgana. Both of you go upstairs immediately and pack for the Hamptons. It’s supposed to be warm.”

“No!” Morgana was the one to yell this time. “Arthur’s right. Father, tell us what’s happening.”

Uther, after giving each of them, including Gaius, a dirty look, sighed in defeat. “Enough. Gaius, you tell them. I suppose they’re old enough to make their own decision. However, if either of them wants to stay, then they will stay, and you will not bother our family ever again.”

Gaius nodded solemnly, although there was an unidentifiable twinkle in his eye. “Agreed.”

“Good,” Arthur spat out. “Now what is happening?”

“How familiar are the two of you with Greek mythology?”

Arthur shrugged, not sure how pertinent this was to the issue, while Morgana replied “Somewhat.”

Gaius hummed in response. Uther, who apparently had enough, stalked out of the room. Arthur wasn’t overly sad to see him go. He was keeping secrets, and had been for what seemed like a long time. “What would you do if I told you that the Greek gods and goddesses were alive and present today?”

Arthur blinked twice. “I’d call you mad.”

“Absolutely bonkers,” Morgana echoed.

Gaius’s eyes twinkled again. “What would you do if I told you that the two of you were _children_ of these deities?”

Arthur’s heart caught in his throat. “W – What?”

“There is a place,” Gaius continued on as if he hadn’t just dropped the biggest fucking bombshell of the century, “where half-bloods, half human and half god, such as yourselves, can go in order to keep themselves safe from any other god or monster seeking them out.”

“Monster?” Arthur asked faintly, wondering if he had entered some kind of strange unreality where up was down and down was up.

“Yes,” Gaius nodded in assent. “Your father has done a splendid job of keeping the two of you safe – but it’s time for you to come home now.”

Morgana responded with suspicion and shock. “But – we are home.”

Gaius shook his head. “No,” he said. “You are not. Your home is Camp Half-Blood – should you assent to travel there with me. It’s not far away, only in Long Island. If you wish, you only have to attend for the summer. But if you want to keep yourselves safe and alive, I suggest staying there, despite any misgivings your father may have on the matter.”

“I don’t even know how to respond to this,” Arthur swallowed, voice thick. “I – I need some kind of proof.”

Without blinking, Gaius held his hand out to the two of them, palm facing upward. Arthur was skeptical about how showing them his wrinkled and gnarled hand was going to help the situation.

But then a small, dancing flame appeared in the center of it, and Arthur’s breath gave way.

He was packed within the hour.

* * *

 

On the drive up to Camp Half-Blood, Gaius told Arthur and Morgana the circumstances of their births.

According to him, Athena, goddess of wisdom and battle strategy, had met Uther when he was in the running for New York senator the first time around. She had become very taken with him, his mind, and his belief system, and decided she would gift him with a son due to his strength of the mind.

Arthur still wasn’t quite processing that his mother was Athena, of all people. He had always wondered, since he was child, what she had been like, if she had been beautiful, smart – His father told him that she had died just after he was born, and had no pictures.

But of all the things Arthur could have imagined about his mother, it wasn’t this.

But then the story became diluted when Morgana’s mother entered the picture. Eris, the goddess of discord, lived for strife and conflict between people. Arthur vaguely remembered from one of his history classes that she had started a war. Morgana being her daughter really made quite a bit of sense.

Eris and Athena had suffered a horrendous argument that year, over some petty problem that Gaius didn’t expand upon; in return for Athena’s insult to her being, Eris decided to seduce her mortal man, resulting in the birth of a daughter.

Uther, upon figuring out this whole complicated mess (and how the hell Arthur’s father managed to have two immortal, all-powerful goddesses for his attention was a subject he didn’t want to think too hard about), was furious with the two of them, with gods in general, and decided that he would never, ever let his children be a part of that culture. He had researched everything about making sure that Arthur and Morgana would be completely undetectable by monsters and Olympians alike –and had succeeded for sixteen years.

“Normally, we’re not able to tell who a demigod’s parent is unless they claim them,” Gaius chatted casually from the driver’s seat as if the secrets of the universe hadn’t just spilled from his lips. Morgana had beaten Arthur to the passenger’s seat, so he was deigned to hear the story from the backseat. Which he was slightly thankful for, as his mouth was open in utter shock throughout most of it.

“How did you know about our births, then?” Morgana was taking this much better than Arthur, with her easy smile and tinkling laugh when Gaius thought a particular antecedent about the situation was funny. It wasn’t. Arthur’s world was crashing and burning.

“It caused quite the scandal at Olympus,” Gaius explained, slowly turning the vehicle toward what looked like a strawberry patch. They’d left the city far behind them and were deep into the countryside. “When I discovered the two of you with all those protective enchantments surrounding you – well, there weren’t any other conclusions I could come to. Your mothers may still claim you, but may not. Olympus is a busy place. At least, however, we know, so neither of you will have to sleep in the Hermes cabin.”

 “The Hermes cabin?” Arthur frowned. “Isn’t he the god of travelers or something?”

“Precisely, Arthur,” Gaius beamed back at him. Arthur tried to smile, but it probably came out looking more like a grimace. “The Hermes cabin takes in all the strays, and they live there until their parent decides to claim them. A deal was made quite a few years back that forced gods to claim their children by the time they were thirteen, but – well, times change. However, the same deal caused our camp to expand with the addition of cabins for the children of minor gods, such as your mother, dear.” Gaius told Morgana.

“What, they didn’t have cabins for them before?” Morgana sounded a bit angry and defensive, which was ironic, as she had known she was child of Eris for all of an hour.

Gaius shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid not. When I attended camp, I spent the entirety of my years in the Hermes cabin.”

“Who’s your parent, then?” Arthur asked, somewhat curious. He had been wondering what, exactly, Gaius was, and how he came to be in charge of this Camp Half-Blood.

“Hecate,” Gaius replied. “Goddess of magic, hence the little trick I showed you earlier.”

“Neat,” Morgana marveled, fascinated. Arthur, on the other hand, took a few moments to process it. “Do we have any abilities like that?”

“If you do, they will surely come to you soon,” Gaius said. “You’re quite the latecomers, as I’ve said, but I’m certain you’ll fit in just fine. I have one of each of your siblings waiting for you when we arrive. They can show you around and familiarize you with the camp.”

“Is it – just a summer camp?” Arthur wondered out loud. “Do we go back home when August rolls around, or…?”

“Like your father said,” Gaius answered, and Arthur winced. Uther had not been pleased with them when he and Morgana told him they were leaving. He didn’t know if Uther would even _let_ them return home. “It’s your decision. Some campers stay only during the summer months, and some stay all year round. It’s much more dangerous outside of the camp, though, and for demigods with a story such as yours, it would be much more beneficial to stay at the camp, at least for the time being.”

Arthur nodded, processing. It seemed like this was going to become a hobby of his.

“Is there anything else we should know, other than gods and monsters and whatever the hell else our father has been hiding from us?” He asked. He didn’t mean for it to come out rudely, but the sound grated on his ears and Morgana shot him a glare.

“I’m sure you’ll figure out anything else you need once we arrive,” Gaius replied far too cryptically for Arthur’s liking. “Ah, here we are!”

Arthur leaned over to peer out the window. All he could see was a towering oak tree, but upon squinting further, he noticed a large, white country house, a circular patio surrounding it. It was pushed up close against the tree so that everyone who needed to enter the house would have to pass be the gnarled oak.

“Is that it?” Arthur didn’t bother hiding his disappointment. He was expecting this place, this Camp Half Blood to be grandiose, incredible – he didn’t want to think this was a scam, but…

Gaius simply chuckled. “No, no. That’s just the Big House. Nimueh and I are the only ones who occupy it. The rest of the camp is further down in the valley, by the strawberry patches.”

Arthur decided to take his word for it, and when the car rolled up next to the Big House, he could just make out what looked like a tall black tower in the backdrop of the fields. That was good enough for him. Although he vaguely wondered what it was, he kept his mouth shut, for Gaius and Morgana were already exiting the car.

Long Island was warm that day, the beginning of a summer breeze wafting through the countryside. Arthur took deep breath in and sighed contentedly. He hadn’t been to the country in what felt like years, although in reality, it had probably been only six months since his family visited their cottage in the Catskills.

“Are these the Pendragon children, then?” A high, striking feminine voice called out, her tone like a slap on concrete. Arthur turned, nearly jolted, to face a tall woman with ebony hair and milky skin dressed in a floor-length scarlet dress with matching lips and eyes. Arthur had the immediate urge to jump backward.

“Yes,” Gaius replied, seemingly unfazed by the woman’s sudden appearance. Morgana looked a tiny bit shaken, but regained her composure in an instant. Arthur followed in suit, not wanting to show any weakness here. “This is Arthur, son of Athena, and Morgana, daughter of Eris. And this, children, is the Oracle, or Nimueh.”

The woman’s gaze trained on Arthur, all red and blue, sharp like claws, nearly seeing through him, and a shiver went down his spine.  “He has a wicked sword hand and a beautiful heart. One of them will lead him to his death. Only time will tell.”

Arthur swallowed and his mouth tasted like blood.

Nimueh trained her piercing gaze on Morgana, and Arthur let out a visible breath of relief. His sister, however, immediately straightened her back and looked into the woman’s eyes in what she probably thought was a fearless manner, but actually appeared more nervous than Arthur.

“She takes after her mother. Strife and discontent will follow her all of her days unless she embraces her true destiny.”

“And – and what would that be?” Morgana’s breathless voice faltered.

But Nimueh dropped her eyes, instead saying to Gaius “I’ll be inside. Leon and Morgause got your message; they’re waiting for the children at the bottom of the hill.”

A swing and a slam of the door and she vanished from sight.

“Don’t take it personally,” Gaius’s voice was just as calm and level as it had been before she made her entrance. “She enjoys being cryptic. Now go on, you heard her, bottom of the hill. If you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.”

“This is the weirdest shit ever,” Arthur muttered to Morgana as soon as Gaius left their earshot, and the pair was trudging toward the hill where they were supposed to meet whoever the fuck had been sent for them. “I can hardly believe this.”

“Shut up,” Morgana shoved him with a roll of her eyes. “Give this a chance. It seems real and…don’t you want it to be?”

Arthur was about to come up with a snappy retort, but his eyes flashed forward for half a second, and he stopped short, nearly tripping over his own feet as he stared, shocked and fascinated and utterly captivated by his surroundings. “Um – Morgana. Wild guess here, but I’m going to say it’s real.”

Directly down in the valley encasing them, there was another time. Grand white Colosseums, pillars and stones that looked like something out of Ancient Rome – or, more likely, Ancient Greece – what looked like a fighting arena, small houses decorated in all sorts of matters, from solid gold and silver to entwined with plant vines, a huge, sprawling forest that should have been chopped down years ago, a gigantic black tower that Arthur had noticed before but not truly seen, for this one was covered head to toe in lava…

And it was full of kids, teenagers, dressed in either orange t-shirts, or, Arthur noticed with a thrill, full battle armor. His heart beat a wild taboo in his chest. It took him what felt like an eternity to look at Morgana again, gazing, just as enraptured as him.

“Totally real,” she breathed when she noticed his eyes on hers. “Totally and completely. Come on – let’s go.”

It took them less than ten seconds to make it to the bottom of the hill. Suddenly everything seemed so real – it wasn’t just a fairytale seen from a bird’s eye view, there was what looked like a forge directly in front of them, with bronze swords being formed before their eyes. Arthur took notice of a pretty dark haired girl that looked to be working just as hard as the teenage boys that surrounded her, sweat dripping down her back as she spoke to one of them, pounding against the bronze with fervor. The boy next to her looked like he was probably her brother; it was then that Arthur realized that everyone here would be related, somehow.

 “Are you Arthur and Morgana?” A deep, friendly voice called out. Arthur turned, half-expecting to see some kind of terrifying otherworldly monster – but it was a tall man, perhaps only a couple of years older than Arthur, with a mop of curly ginger hair, the beginnings of a wispy beard, and a kind smile. Directly behind him was a blond girl with crystal eyes and a set mouth that reminded Arthur of Morgana when she was in a mood.

“That’s us,” Morgana said, smiling and shaking her head with laughter. “And you are…?”

“I’m Leon,” the man reached out and shook her hand firmly before reaching around her to shake Arthur’s as well, gripping firmly. “Son of Athena.”

“You’re – we’re –” Arthur tried to formulate a response in his head.

“Brothers,” Leon grinned down at him with genuine happiness. “Yeah, you’re going to meet a lot of those.”

Arthur hid a smile. He had always wanted a brother.

“And I’m Morgause,” the girl’s tone was icy when she took Arthur’s hand, but it warmed up immensely when she smiled at Morgana. “Daughter of Eris, and your sister.”

Morgana didn’t bother to hide her grin. “This is brilliant, just brilliant. I can’t believe this is _real_.”

“No one can, at first,” Leon reassured her. “The two of you are starting as campers rather late in the game, but we’ve had older campers show up before. I didn’t make it here until I was fourteen.”

“I was twelve,” Morgause said with a practiced shrug and bored tone. “That’s the average. Come on, Morgana, let’s go. I’ll take you to our cabin.”

“She’s…icy,” Arthur frowned after her retreating form, his sister’s grinning and jovial one a step behind her.

“That’s her nickname,” Leon smiled. “The Ice Queen.”

Arthur snorted. “Give Morgana a week and she’ll be the Ice Princess.”

“It’s not often two siblings have different godly parents,” Leon said as he laughed, wide and open-mouthed. “You two must be pretty special.”

Arthur smiled. “Yeah. Guess so.”

* * *

Over the next few hours, Arthur’s entire viewpoint of the world swiveled, turned upside down a few times, and was crushed to death with a hammer. Everything he knew suddenly transformed before his eyes as he saw the armory full of celestial bronze weapons (when Leon gave him his own sword and armor, Arthur got the distinct feeling of coming home), the arena, where a tall, good-looking muscular man was beaten in a swordfight by a tiny wisp of a girl (Elena, daughter of Ares, according to Leon), more than one Pegasus (that was straight of a mythology textbook), a deep dark forest (where they would play Capture the Flag on Friday), more than one structure built cathedral-style, and the tower of lava up close and personal (it was a climbing wall, much to Arthur’s shock), and met the satyrs (Arthur had to try very hard not to stare at their half-goat legs).

Leon laughed at Arthur’s amazement, but it wasn’t judging or critical, just enjoying the fascination. Arthur already warmed up to him considerably.

“And last but not least, the cabins,” Leon swept a grand gesture with his hand as they approached the group of houses that varied from mausoleums to greenhouses. “One for nearly every god or goddess. It used to just be the Olympians that were represented, but now the children of minor gods have a home as well.”

“Morgana would be quite angry if she didn’t have a cabin,” Arthur said. “So that’s a good thing.”

Leon nodded. “A lot of people were, hence the changes. So up front we have Zeus and Hera’s cabins.”

The two cabins that headed the pack were gigantic, towering Greek-style mausoleums. The one on the left was slightly more menacing with what looked like thunderbolts on the bronze doorways, so Arthur figured it belonged to Zeus. The left was prettier, with flowers encircling the columns.

“Both are currently unoccupied,” Leon continued speaking. “Hera’s the goddess of marriage, so she doesn’t screw around with mortals.”

“What’s Zeus’s excuse?” Arthur wondered out loud. “Aren’t like, all the problems in Greek mythology caused by him fucking too many women?”

Leon snorted. “Got it in one. But the children of the Big Three – Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades – rather dangerous lot. There was a prophecy about them that got fulfilled a few years back, but they stuck to their pact that they wouldn’t have too many mortal children. Of course they’ve broken that rule a few times over the years – but right now, there’s no one in the Zeus cabin, or the Poseidon one, for that matter.”

He gestured toward a smaller cabin next to Zeus’s mansion, this one made of sea stone, giving off a green aura. “And then across from that is Demeter, there are maybe half a dozen campers there. I’ll introduce you to Freya later, she’s the head counselor, and I’ll talk her into being your tutor for ancient Greek. She’s good with languages as well as plants.”

“Thanks,” Arthur said. “Although learning ancient Greek sounds dreadfully boring. Not to mention difficult.”

“It comes pretty naturally to demigods,” Leon promised.

“What about that one?” Arthur wrinkled his nose at the cabin next to Poseidon’s. It had a horrid red paint job and had a boar’s head lying lopsided outside of it. There was a group of kids outside of it, large and brawny, playing basketball with fervor and ferocity that Arthur hardly recognized as human.

“Ares,” Leon took notice of his wince. “Not the prettiest sight to see, but you get used to it. Cabin six, though – that’s us. Athena.”

Arthur turned, unsure of what was going to come next, he hadn’t quite taken notice of the cabin behind him – but when he did, an unwitting smile formed.

It was a plain building, very simple, painted grey and with an intricate drawing of an owl on the doorway, but it was easy against his eyes amidst all of the swirling colors he’d seen within the hour. “I like it,” he confessed to Leon, despite the fact that he lived in a house much more similar to Zeus’s. “I really like it.”

Leon grinned down at him like he would a younger brother. “Good. Do you want to go inside? We can introduce you to the others.”

“Yeah, let’s –” Arthur began, but was cut off when Leon suddenly craned his neck around Arthur and called out to a pair of approaching figures.

“Gwen, Elyan, come over here!”

A moment later and the people Arthur saw at the forge when he first arrived were in front of him, the pretty, curly-haired girl and who he assumed was her brother.

“This is Arthur,” Leon introduced him and Arthur shook both of their hands quickly. “He’s a new camper, son of Athena.”

“I’m Gwen,” the girl said cheerfully. “Daughter of Hephaestus, god of metalwork. And this is my brother, Elyan.”

“And we’re actually full-blooded siblings,” Elyan said jokingly. “Same mother, too.”

“Arthur and his sister, Morgana, just got to camp,” Leon explained. “Managed to avoid it for a while, but were drawn in eventually.”

“Just like everyone else,” Gwen smiled as she surveyed Arthur with an assessing eye. “He looks like he’ll be a good asset when we play Capture the Flag on Friday.”

“Athena hasn’t officially accepted you as an ally yet,” Leon shoved her shoulder lightly, jokingly, and she grinned up at him with a new loveliness in her eyes and Arthur got the feeling he was intruding on something. When he met Elyan’s eye and the other boy rolled his, he figured he was right.

“But you will,” Gwen told him with certainty. “You’re up against Merlin – if you want to win, it’s not going to be without our help.”

“Well, perhaps from a _strategic_ viewpoint,” Leon started before Gwen interrupted.

“Yes, because Athena is all about _strategy_ –”

“Ah-hem.” Arthur was glad Elyan interrupted them, otherwise he would have been forced to and that generally didn’t make a great first impression. “Gwen, we just came over here for the plans for the catapult.”

“Right, of course,” Gwen broke off, flustered. “See you later, Leon. It was nice to meet you, Arthur.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Arthur called after her retreating back. He turned to Leon the moment she was gone. The other boy seemed to catch onto his shit-eating grin, for he turned pink. “Aren’t you guys like, cousins or something?”

“Gods don’t have DNA,” Leon informed him, still red in the face. “We don’t date anyone from our own cabin, but the others…”

“Good to know,” Arthur stuck his hands in his pockets, still grinning. “So. You gonna ask her out or what?”

“No, of course not,” Leon looked highly miffed. “She’s…she’s dating this one guy from Ares,” he muttered, eyes looking down.

“Bad luck,” Arthur shoved his shoulder lightly, and decided he very much liked having an older brother. “You were going to show me the cabin?”

The inside was even better than the outside. It was full of armor leaning against the bunks and swords mounted on the walls and battle and blueprints laying on workbenches and Arthur had never felt more at home than when Leon pointed him to an empty bunk.

* * *

 

After a brief introduction to the arena, where Arthur learned that Nimueh had been right about the wicked sword hand – he could easily best everyone around, even the best-trained demigods, with his new sword, which he named Excalibur (despite Elena, daughter of Ares, warning him that he was showing faith to the wrong mythology), Leon showed him the rest of the cabins.

 The beautiful silver and gold contrast of Apollo and Artemis, the sheer magnitude of the intricacies that went into Hephaestus’s smokestacks, the somewhat simpler than expected Aphrodite, and the bent out of shape Hermes cabin, where he met the head counselor, Percival, the one who had been badly beaten in the arena earlier that day, but he didn’t seem too upset about it. On the contrary, he simply laughed it off as if it happened every other day.

Dionysus’s cabin was completely run over with vines, Hypnos’s made Arthur feel like sleep was necessary to living just from standing outside of it, Morgana’s Eris cabin, with blue slashes across the metallic walls, was edgy and frightening, and Arthur had the feeling his sister would fit right in.

“What cabin is that?” Arthur asked about a cabin even more frightening, the last in the row. A red thirteen was painted over the black obsidian door, and torches burned green outside of it even though it was only midday.

“Hades,” Leon answered with a shudder.

“Another ceremonial one?” Arthur guessed, remembering the spiel from earlier about the three major gods not having many children.

“Actually, no,” Leon shook his head. “We have one camper that’s a son of Hades.”

“I’d hate to see what he looks like,” Arthur snorted derisively. “Let me guess – dark clothes, eyeliner, sketchy attitude –”

“Ooh, only one out of three,” a deep, husky voice said into his ear, so close Arthur could feel the figure’s breath. “I’ve never touched eyeliner and I’m quite partial to red.”

Arthur jumped in the air, shivers running down his beck – he whirled around to deck whoever this person was just to prove he wouldn’t put up with any of this shit – but there was no one there, only Leon, appearing slightly annoyed and overly exasperated.

“Merlin,” he sighed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head like an old mother hen. “This isn’t how you make friends.”

“But Leon,” the disembodied voice said again, quieter this time, slightly petulant, but then was full-force back to whispering in Arthur’s ear and sending thrills down his spine. “Scaring people is much more fun.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Arthur asked, turning in a circle trying to see this Merlin, who he had the great urge to pummel to the dirt, but the cabin’s surroundings were entirely blank of other people.

Leon sighed again as if arguments with unseen voices were a regular occurrence. “Merlin, this is Arthur, son of Athena. He’s new and doesn’t know you, and therefore cannot have a bad opinion of you yet. Don’t ruin it for him.”

The voice heaved a sigh. “Fine. Whatever. I’m coming.”

Arthur looked at Leon somewhat confused, somewhat angry. “What the hell –?”

“Was that?” The voice from before responded, but it wasn’t nearly as echoing or up close and personal, it was just – just a voice.

Arthur turned to face the cabin once more to find a boy leaning against one of the obsidian pillars. Arthur had been correct in the dark hair assumption, as raven curls touched his overlarge ears. There was smile on the boy’s face that made him look younger than he probably was, which might have been anywhere from fifteen to eighteen. Arthur couldn’t quite tell. He was lanky and narrow, and, as he had said previously, liked red. He forwent the orange camp shirt for a red plaid and worn blue jeans. He was good-looking, but in an off-kilter way that made Arthur squint as if he wasn’t seeing the whole picture.

“Yeah,” Arthur remembered that he was pissed at the guy, whoever he was. “What the hell was _that_?”

“A form of Umbrakenesis,” the boy, Merlin, explained, scuffing his worn tennis shoes against the obsidian as he did so. “I can manipulate shadows. You’re standing in shadows, and you were insulting me. I’m not particularly good at resisting impulses. Can I blame my father for that?”

His eyes flickered to Leon at his last statement, which earned him an eye roll and another sigh. “No, M, I think that’s all you.”

Merlin grinned despite Leon’s obvious exasperation, and reached a hand out to shake Arthur’s. Arthur was half-expecting their hands to slide through each other without touching, but Merlin shook his hand firmly, skin ice cold. “Sorry about that, Arthur, son of Athena. I probably would have guessed Apollo, or possibly Aphrodite.”

“And why is that?” Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“Because you’re beautiful,” Merlin smiled without a trace of hesitation or shame, which made Arthur choke in surprise. “Plus, you look a little full of yourself, and everyone knows Apollo is one of cocky son of a bitch.”

Leon was muttering under his breath “ _you don’t call the lord of the sun a cocky son of a bitch, you just don’t, why, why do you do these things_?”, but Arthur decided that he would be giving good as he got.

“Well, I would have guessed Zeus for you with your self-righteous attitude,” Arthur crossed his arms as Merlin’s eyes widened in something akin to joy, although that made no sense. “But you give off a creepy enough vibe that Hades makes sense.”

“I suppose I’d have to see you use a sword before I could really be sure you’re a son of Athena,” Merlin’s eyes danced. “The true mark of her kin.”

“He’s very good,” Leon added in helpfully, though he looked vaguely terrified of the pair’s exchange. “He beat me easily.”

Merlin snorted. “That’s not difficult, Leon.”

“Not for you,” Leon rolled his eyes. “But Arthur managed to best everyone except Elena.”

That had been frankly embarrassing, but Arthur was reassured that the tiny blond girl could slay a thousand dragons without blinking an eye, so he tried to forget the humiliation.

Merlin smiled, and Arthur liked the thought that it was because he was impressed, but to be honest, it probably was more of a ‘good, a challenge’ kind of grin. “I look forward to playing Capture the Flag against you.”

“Can someone please explain to me what Capture the Flag is? This is the third or fourth time someone’s mentioned it,” Arthur turned to Leon for an answer. He was dependable like that, Arthur quickly figured out.

It was Merlin that answered, however. “Every Friday, the cabins split into two teams and fight for laurels and glory and being the best of the best, etcetera. Huge battle out in the woods,” he gestured toward the deep forest that lay situated to their right. “Right now the cabins holding the laurels are – you guessed it, Athena and Hades.”

“How does that get figured?” Arthur frowned.

“Winners from the previous weeks,” Leon filled in this time.

Arthur eyed Merlin’s skinny frame suspiciously. “ _You_? Just _you_ won the laurels? I find that hard to believe.”

Merlin grinned. “Like I said. I look forward to Friday.”

* * *

 

“Sorry about Merlin,” Leon said later that night after they had dinner in the open pavilion. Arthur sat with his cabin, where he had made a friend of the limber, dark-haired Mithian. Gaius had introduced both him and Morgana to the entire camp, which was smaller than Arthur would have thought, but after going through the odd tradition of sacrificing food for the gods, it had been quite a good time.

“Why?” Arthur laid out a blanket from home on his bunk, which was directly below Leon’s own. “Nothing he did was your fault. Besides, he’s…funny.”

“That’s one word for him,” Leon said with a laugh and a shake of his head. “Don’t take anything he says seriously, though. He’s a really good guy when you get to know him, he’s just…people don’t really like him.”

Arthur snorted sarcastically. “I can’t imagine why.”

“He’s all bark and no bite,” Leon said. “Well…I take that back. He’s half bite. You don’t ever want to be facing him in a fight. But none of the campers liked him when he arrived because Hades has a rather sour reputation, and Merlin likes playing that up just a bit too much.”

“I can see that, strangely enough,” Arthur shook his head with a laugh. “But…I don’t know. He intrigues me.”

“He does do that,” Leon agreed. “Come on now – lights out.”

* * *

Arthur started out the next morning by meeting up with Morgana again, who was absolutely glowing, thrilled by everything that was going on around her, accompanied by small, slight, Freya from Demeter, who started out her introduction by opening up a thousand page dusty literature and asking them to read a passage from the Odyssey.

Arthur did not feel like the son of a wisdom goddess after two hours having his mind swimming with _that._

After that, though, he got to swing a sword and hit people, which he liked much more.

“You’re good,” Gwaine, son of Dionysus, said during one of their water breaks. Arthur chugged half a bottle in one go as he spoke. “Brilliant, in fact. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“No, never,” Arthur said, adjusting a strap on his armor.

Gwaine, bemused, shook his head. “Shit, man. Shit.”

He managed to beat Lancelot, son of Ares, rather handily as well. Leon had told him before the fight that this was Gwen’s boyfriend, so Arthur went a bit harder on him than he otherwise would have. And he seemed nice enough, shaking Arthur’s hand and congratulating him afterward, but Arthur was still holding a bit of a grudge.

Gwen was in the arena as well, although she wasn’t fighting, only helping others into and out of their armor. Arthur fought Elyan, though, who was quite handy with a sword, and Mithian, his sister, who proved to be quite good as well.

Mordred, son of Nemesis, the goddess of revenge, lived up to his name rather well, proving to be the most ferocious of the fighters Arthur had dealt with. He still bested him, but only after fifteen sweaty minutes.

Leon shook his head as Arthur stepped out of the arena when Athena’s hour was up. “You’re going to be the best of all of us one day, I can tell you right now.”

Arthur took the building up of his ego with a smile.

* * *

 

“Hello, golden boy.”

Arthur had been heading to the showers from the climbing wall, where he had made it halfway up before falling into the safety net (which spited him, as Morgana made it all the way to the top and had crowed at him about it for the past hours), when a low, hushed voice whispered down his back.

“Fucking Christ, Merlin,” Arthur swore, jumping, and there was a chuckle in his ear before Merlin stepped out from behind the amphitheater. “A warning would be nice. Leon is right; this is why you don’t have any friends.”

“No, I don’t have friends because I’m a bit of a prick,” Merlin fell into step beside Arthur. He was actually wearing a camp shirt today, and Arthur could see the beads that adorned his necklace. Leon had told him that they represented each year a camper had been there, and that he’d get one after the summer ended. Leon had four beads on his, but Merlin’s necklace had nine different designs.

Arthur laughed despite himself. “I don’t remember asking you to join me.”

“Well, that’s the great thing about me,” Merlin said cheerfully. “I just do shit anyway.”

“Brilliant,” Arthur shook his head. It would probably be best if they walked in silence, but he couldn’t resist asking about the necklace. “You’ve been here a long time, then,” he said, pointing to the beads.

Merlin reached up subconsciously to twist them between his long fingers. “Yeah. Since I was eight.”

Arthur blinked. “That’s pretty young.”

“Child of the Big Three,” Merlin said with a shrug, and his eyes pulled away from Arthur’s and toward the dirt path. “Monsters like me. They like me quite a bit.”

“So you haven’t left camp since you were eight?” Arthur was suddenly struck with how sad that was. He had only been here for a day, and adored it, but to spend a full nine years here…

“I’ve left a few times,” Merlin squinted as if he was counting in his head. “The most exciting was when I went on a quest when I was thirteen. I was gone for…three weeks? Not very long.”

“A quest?” Arthur’s interest was piqued. “What’s that?”

“Well, if you prove yourself  good enough, and there’s some kind of emergency that needs tending to in the mortal world, then Gaius will send you to fix it,” Merlin explained. “I saw you fighting earlier today – if you stay on at the camp, you’ll have a quest within the year. Within the summer, even.”

“I think that was almost a compliment,” Arthur said teasingly. “I didn’t see you earlier, though – you should have come into the arena. I could have so kicked your ass.”

Merlin held in a laugh. “Sure, sure. Just keep believing that.”

“Just wait until Friday,” Arthur said as the path split, one side heading toward the bathrooms and the other for the Big House. Arthur noted, with a rush of unexpected disappointment, that Merlin was heading the other way. “We’ll see then.”

“I suppose we will.”

* * *

 

“Heroes, attention!”

Arthur grinned wildly up at Gaius from where he stood, surrounded by his brothers and sisters in the Athena cabin, holding a silk grey banner in one hand a celestial bronze sword in the other. Friday, after a long wait, had finally arrived. The Athena cabin had been buzzing about it all day long, making Arthur all the more anxious to participate in it.

Athena had made temporary alliances with Hephaestus, Demeter, Hermes, Apollo, and Aphrodite. Hades, or rather, Merlin, was allied with every single one of the cabins that belonged to a minor god, and Dionysus. Athena had strength in numbers, but Hades had a variety of talent in its midst.

Besides, Arthur wasn’t sure anyone could face Merlin breathing down their neck from miles away.

Speaking of Merlin, he currently stood alone with his banner – whereas all the Athena kids had grabbed a fistful of the silk, Merlin had the shimmering black material draped across his back like a cape over his armor. His teammates were all standing at least a foot from him, none of them gripping the banner. Or looking him in the eye. The only people standing semi close to him were Gwaine and a daughter of Iris that Arthur thought’s name was Isolde. He took notice of Morgana, standing next to Morgause a few feet behind Merlin, smiling and sharing a joke with her new sister.

Arthur felt a sting of resentment, but that wasn’t fair. He had spent quite a lot of time with Leon, so he couldn’t fault her for wanting to get to know the other side of her family.

 Gaius’s voice, booming louder than Arthur expected could come from his old, frail body, called “You all know the rules. The entire forest is open to you, but the creek is the boundary line. There is no maiming or killing allowed whatsoever. Your banner must be prominently displayed with no more than two guards. Prisoners cannot be bound or gagged, but they may be disarmed. Due to incidents in the past, this game will not permit any magical objects to me in use. This also includes armies of conjured undead skeletons, Merlin.”

Arthur laughed, but he was one of the few who did. Merlin was laughing as well, though, so he figured it was okay. Arthur did merit some strange looks from his teammates, some of them who looked vaguely disturbed at the mention of skeletons, which made Arthur wonder exactly how much of a shit storm Merlin caused.

Gaius plowed forward. “I will act as referee and battlefield medic. Ready your weapons!”

“Blue team, forward!” Leon called out, and Arthur found himself running east toward the forest, sticking along the perimeter. The Athena cabin had joined together the previous night to discuss battle strategies, and therefore Arthur knew that the flag was heading toward the most northeasterly parts of the North woods, just inward of the boundary line and high in the trees. Mithian, along with a son of Apollo named Tristan, would be its guards. Others would go on border patrol, but Arthur, due to his prowess with a sword, had been elected to go with Leon and Percival to seek the banner in the area called Zeus’s Fist, apparently a favorite spot for the flag. Elena, Lancelot, and Elyan would head up north instead.

Merlin’s team, after a less enthusiastic and more sarcastic battle cry that made Arthur roll his eyes, headed in the opposite direction – toward Zeus’s fist, Arthur noticed with a thrill.

God, he hoped he met Merlin at some point. He was itching to fight the other boy. Merlin set his own schedule, and therefore never came at the same time as Arthur to the arena, although he had no trouble popping up during Arts and Crafts, or at the forge, or at the canoe lake, or the first time Arthur attempted to ride a Pegasus…

Arthur’s mind was drifting. He needed to focus.

He snapped back into battle mode, following on Percival’s heels as they streaked through the forest. Before long, the banner slid out of sight and toward the border, accompanied by most of their teammates. Now it was just Arthur, Leon, and Percival, bolting through the forest in full-metal armor, swords drawn and ready for combat.

If someone had told Arthur two weeks ago that this was going to be his summer…

A figure darted out in front of Arthur, and he knew within an instant it was an enemy combatant, with the red plumage atop his helmet. A look at the face told him it was Gwaine, who had been waiting to ambush them.

Percival and Leon were both taller and long legged, and at least three feet ahead of him.

Naturally, Arthur reached out with his sword hilt to jam Gwaine’s helmet.

“Fuck!” Gwaine swore, surprised, giving Arthur just enough time to jab the sword hilt into his stomach. The other boy doubled over, wheezing, but managed to meet Arthur’s sword in an instant.

Metal clashed a few times, but it was all in vain – Arthur had already gained the upper hand. Gwaine was on the forest ground groaning within the minute. Arthur found himself grinning in spite of himself, and looked up to see how far ahead of him Leon and Percival had made it.

He only had to look fifteen feet to see them both taking on Mordred, the small, dark-haired son of Nemesis, who was fighting very dirty. The two of them, despite being quite a bit larger, were no match for his speed. He weaved in and out of their clashing swords, and managed to knock Percival flat on his back. Arthur winced, suddenly angry.

He didn’t have enough time to fight Mordred, however, for when Leon taunted “Hey, fuckface!” – and Arthur never thought that word would never come from the nearly virginal Leon’s mouth – and he yanked Mordred’s helmet off his curly-haired head, taking off running in the opposite direction.

Mordred, with a snarl fully deserving of the revenge goddess, bolted after him. That helmet was the only thing that distinguished him from the opposite team, and without it, he doubled his chances of getting horribly maimed.

“Smart little bastard,” Percival said as Arthur reached down a hand to help him to his feet. “Athena through and through. C’mon, he’s given us a chance. And since they have guards, the flag must be close.”

The two of them traipsed through the forest at a much slower pace, making as little noise as possible for fear of being noticed by guards, or by monsters – According to every camper Arthur had talked to, the woods were infested with them. Leon had taken him to fight a harpy two days ago, and it had not been a pleasant experience.

 “Shit,” Percival hissed in his ear as they rounded a bend, and he quickly ducked out a view and behind a rather large rock, manhandling Arthur along with him. Arthur groaned as his back at the stone.

“What is it?” He asked, rubbing his shoulder. He shouldn’t be getting abused by his own teammates, although with Percival, the boy probably just thought Arthur was the same size as him and didn’t know any better.

“There’s a hellhound out there,” Percival whispered and Arthur sucked in a sudden breath. “This has Emrys written all over it.”

Arthur must have looked confused, for Percival explained “Merlin. His last name’s Emrys.”

“Well, he’s a son of Hades,” Arthur said, peering out around the corner to see the largest dog – not even dog – he had ever seen in his life. Over nine feet tall, huge and slobbering, the beast looked like it belonged somewhere in the Fields of Punishment.

“True,” Percival said. “Hellhounds were probably his only friends as a child.”

“What do we do?” Arthur asked, unsure of the protocol for this particular situation.

Percival shrugged his massive shoulders. “Well, it’s probably guarding the way to the flag, so we have to get past it somehow. The best way would probably be getting by unnoticed, but I’m not sure the best way to do that.”

“How about this?” Arthur breathed, an idea forming in his mind. “You distract him while I sneak around him and get the flag.”

“Are you sure?” Percival asked, sounding legitimately concerned. “There’ll be two guards and maybe other fighters between here and there, and this is only your first time playing…”

“Are you trying to talk yourself out of being dog food?” Arthur asked with a breathless laugh, and Percival guffawed from next to him.

“Fine. Scream if you need help.”

“Will do.”

Percival, remaining quiet as he could while still alerting the hellhound to his presence, ran out in front of the beast, leaving Arthur to move around the gigantic monstrosity. Before long, he was well on his way past Percival and the creature, moving quickly and quietly through the forest, trying his hardest not to step on a single twig.

It was only after walking for ten minutes without so much as an owl’s hoot that Arthur saw the flag.

It was directly to his right, obsidian black covered almost entirely from view by a thicket of bushes. Knowing that he would come across at least two fighters, Arthur smiled as he crept forward, slow as he could go. If he could do this, if he could prove to himself that he belonged here…

The guard saw him before he saw her.

All Arthur knew was that there was a tall blond girl on top of him an instant, growling and cursing and tearing at his hair and armor, tackling him to the dirt.

“Yeah, Pendragon, that’s right,” she hissed into his ear, and Arthur knew it was the girl who had been standing next to Merlin, Isolde, and _wasn’t her mother the goddess of the rainbow and if so why was she able to cause Arthur so much pain aren’t rainbows supposed to be nice and pretty and friendly and not humiliating and agonizing and why was this happening to him?_

Arthur, in a sudden fit of strength, bucked upward to flip her over onto her back. The pain in his own subsided as he struggled to pin her down, but she wasn’t taking it. Arthur wasn’t exactly sure how to get through this without maiming her in any way – if only he could reach his sword, he could knock her out with the hilt.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to, for suddenly, a plain and simple rock that had formerly been sitting on the ground raised up without any kind of warning and knocked the top of her head. She went still, unconscious, instantaneously.

Arthur got to his feet, sword and the ready, crouched and in a fighting position. He didn’t know what that was or where it came from, but he didn’t trust it.

And he was right to, for it was followed by a low, melodic laugh in his ear that was all too familiar.

“Merlin,” Arthur growled, guttural in the back of his throat. “What the hell was that? And where are you?”

“Geokenesis,” Arthur tried to ignore how Merlin’s voice had dropped three or four octaves since they had last spoken, over dinner when Merlin had been gently teasing him about the ass whooping he’d have tonight. “Moving the earth with my mind. And I’m by the flag. Don’t worry, no tricks. Thought you wanted to fight me?”

Arthur, despite trusting Merlin’s word, still moved cautiously around the thicket, just in case there was going to be an ambush from behind. Merlin didn’t disappoint, however, he was exactly where he said he’d be – leaning haphazardly against of the trees across which his banner was draped, smiling like he had been waiting for Arthur since the game began. His sword was resting against his legs, fingers lightly brushing its hilt.

“You look far too relaxed,” Arthur informed him tartly, gripping his sword even more tightly.

“You look far too tense,” Merlin grinned over at him, picking up his sword with easy, practiced grace. “It’s a game, Arthur, there’s no need to be so serious about it. Wait, what am I saying? You’re a son of Athena, of course this is life and death to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur asked, taking a tentative step forward. Merlin’s stride tripled his and soon they were mere feet apart.

“Battle is in your blood,” Merlin said quietly, looking him directly in the eye, and Arthur was struck with an ocean of blue, steely and terrifying, but beautiful at the same time.

Wait, beautiful?

But Arthur didn’t have time to analyze that thought, because Merlin’s sword was against his in an instant.

Arthur parried with grace, and then struck ferociously, a low blow near Merlin’s ankles, but the boy was ready for it, jumping in the air to avoid the strike. Before his feet even hit the ground yet, his sword swung to the side of Arthur’s chest. Arthur didn’t have time to dodge it, but it was only a dull thump against his bronze armor. His own sword struck at Merlin’s side and hit its target, but it did the same amount of good.

“I think battle’s in your blood, too,” Arthur hissed out as he lunged at Merlin’s stomach – but the sword didn’t reach its intended mark.

The earth began to crumble and shake beneath his feet, and where one moment there was solid dirt, there was now a fissure in the earth, separating him and Merlin – him and the flag – by several more feet.

“A different kind of battle, maybe,” Merlin’s mouth twisted into a grin as Arthur gaped at the ground in shock. “You’re a better swordsman than me, I’ll give you that – but I’d still pick you as an enemy over me. No offense.”

“None taken,” Arthur replied, and leapt over the fissure.

Merlin’s eyes widened in surprise, but his reaction time was quick, and he was on Arthur the moment he landed. Thrust, parry, parry, thrust,  Merlin was backing Arthur away from the flag and toward the woods, not leaving any time for creative moves or hidden strategies, absolutely no vulnerabilities showing –

Except, for a single instant, there was. Just for one moment, Merlin’s left side was left entirely open, entirely vulnerable, and Arthur knew if he didn’t act now –

He hit Merlin’s side full-force with his sword’s blade, and while the boy leaned instinctively into the pain, Arthur kicked his legs out from beneath him.

They hardly moved at first – Arthur had the sinking feeling that he had failed. But then, miraculously, Merlin fell to the ground, and Arthur, taking advantage, sprinted toward the flag. He gripped the dark material tightly in his fist and with a sudden ripple, it became as grey as his own banner, and owl adorned in the center.

“I have the flag!” Arthur shouted into the air, and within instants, he heard whoops and cheers – Percival, and his other teammates, must have been close by. He could hear groans from the other team as a voice that he thought belonged to Elena, but what was she doing near Zeus’s Fist, called out “Don’t just stand there, nimrod! Get out of the woods!”

Arthur, grinning in victory, suddenly remembered Merlin. Looking back downward, the boy was still on the ground, but he didn’t appear to belong there. He looked entirely uninjured, not swept away at all, just sitting there on the ground, grinning at nothing.

In that moment, Arthur knew that Merlin’s legs wouldn’t have had to buckle in that moment.

Merlin had let him win.

* * *

 

Despite the Athena cabin’s thrill and uproar at victory, and in the hands of a newbie, no less, as they celebrated at the bonfire that night, as Arthur ate and laughed with his brothers and sisters, singing around the blazing campfire that burned blue and grey, he couldn’t help but think of Merlin.

Why would he let Arthur win? What would the point in that be? They’d been bantering about this all week, why would Merlin decide to give up and let Arthur have all the glory and bragging rights? It just didn’t make sense, objectively. Because Merlin most assuredly allowed Arthur to take the flag. His legs would not have fallen in that moment if Merlin hadn’t wanted them to. And maybe his left flank wouldn’t have been vulnerable if he hadn’t wanted it to as well. So what was this? Some elaborate ploy to humiliate Arthur in front of everyone?

Perhaps that was a tad over the top, but he _had_ grown up with Morgana, who thought humiliating and degrading others was one of life’s simple joys.

Speaking of Morgana, she wasn’t too pleased with him. When Mordred had come over to congratulate him with a bit a grudge in his voice (apparently Leon had led him into a gryphon and he was now covered in claw marks), she and Morgause had hung back, whispering angrily under their breaths, and when Arthur was merited with nothing more than a blank stare, he had the sinking feeling of being replaced.

He squashed it down, though – this was his victory, dammit, even if he didn’t fully deserve it.

Arthur decided that talking to Leon was possibly his best route of escaping all of this attention and lack of attention, so he turned to his brother, who was staring morosely at his Coke bottle while every once in a while glancing at Gwen and Lancelot, who were sitting curled up together on a log.

“Don’t look at that,” Arthur sat down next to him, shoving his shoulder lightly, and Leon gave a sad, pathetic laugh. “Be happy. We won – celebrate it.”

Leon grinned at him a bit more jovially now. “Yeah, we did win. But we do that a lot. Athena always has a plan. Apparently yours was just better than everyone else’s.”

Arthur shrugged, not pretending modesty, because he _did_ have a good plan, dammit. Merlin just ruined it with – with whatever Merlin did. “I am quite brilliant, aren’t I?”

“And arrogant, apparently,” Leon snorted. “Merlin was right about you.”

“Merlin is right about everything,” a familiar voice said as a figure dropped onto the log on Arthur’s opposite side. The man in question grinned at them over the top of a glass of what looked to be orange soda. “Merlin is a genius.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Keep telling yourself that and it just might become true.”

Merlin laughed and took a swig of his drink. Arthur found himself captivated by the contours in Merlin’s throat as he swallowed, and how his fingers cupped the bottle loosely, tightening their grip just fractionally as he let it swing to his side once more.

He met Arthur’s eyes, and Arthur wondered how he thought Merlin’s gaze was so terrifying before, when now it was just laughing and dancing, showing no signs of their fight in the forest.

Leon seemed to notice the way they were watching each other, for he cleared his throat loudly, snapping Arthur’s gaze away from Merlin and to the ground. “I’ll just go…talk to Elyan, then. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, go on ahead,” Arthur was struck with the idea that Leon shouldn’t have to leave, but truth be told, he wanted to talk to Merlin alone. He got his wish as Leon departed for the other side of the campfire.

“Congratulations, golden boy,” Merlin clanked his glass against Arthur’s in a toast without a trace resentment or cockiness. He sounded completely genuine. “You’re a universal badass now.”

Arthur chuckled under his breath. He very badly wanted to bring up the fact that Merlin should have been the one to win the fight, but there was something caught in his throat that stopped him from voicing it. “You’re damn right I am. Now that we’ve fought, does it mean you’ll finally come and visit me during sword training?”

“What, you missed me?” Merlin teased lightly, nudging his leg against Arthur’s. “Don’t worry – I promise to invade every one of your waking moments from now on so you never have to go a second without seeing me.”

 _What about my sleeping –_ Arthur didn’t ask that question. He had no idea why it sprung to his lips, because it obviously belonged in the deep, dark recesses of his mind where it needed to be stored for the rest of eternity.

Thank Zeus his thought stream was interrupted by an annoying, whistle and a nasally catcall. “Hey, Emrys – Brilliant job out there today! Really brought your team home, huh? You fucking dead freak!”

Arthur’s hackles raised as his gaze snapped to the speaker. It was a greasy-haired oily older counselor of the Ares cabin – Cenred was his name. Arthur never liked that prick.

He opened his mouth to defend Merlin to the man’s retreating back, but Merlin was already yelling after him.

“Laugh all you want, but in a thousand years when we’re all nothing but bones in the ground, _you_ will be burning in the Fields of Punishment and _I_ will be riding around the underworld on a moped!”

Arthur put a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing too hard as Merlin finished off by flipping off a highly annoyed Cenred. “Stop, Gaius will see you,” Arthur giggled haplessly, pulling Merlin’s hand down. Merlin grinned over at him, reckless and gorgeous.

“Hey, I’m only telling the truth,” Merlin shrugged. “I already have a moped picked out. It’s blue with racing stripes on it.”

“What, you’re going to ask your dad for it for Christmas?” Arthur smiled into his pop bottle, trying to imagine how that conversation would go.

 Merlin scrunched his eyes up in laughter. “Maybe I will. My father’s pretty used to me dicking around in hell, so this won’t be too much of a stretch.”

“You’ve met your father, then?” Arthur asked, trying to sound casual, like it was a throwaway comment, but Merlin picked up on it immediately with a sad smile.

“My mother died when I was very young,” Merlin said. “And my father…he was the one that led me to the camp, and I’ve visited him a few times since. I’m currently his only demigod child, and he’s one of the only Olympians that upheld the oath to take their children seriously. So I go to the Underworld sometimes, visit my mother’s spirit in Elysium, annoy Persephone for a while, consider death, don’t eat a lot, and ask my father for mopeds. A normal parent/child relationship.”

Arthur looked at Merlin as Merlin looked at the ground, and reached a tentative hand out to touch his knee. The boy was obviously much lonelier than he let on. Arthur forgot all of his questions about if he would ever get to meet Athena, if Merlin had any siblings from his mother’s side because he had no idea what to do about his relationship with Morgana, and why the hell Merlin had let him win at Capture the Flag.

Instead, he asked, carefully and cheerfully “After we die, do I get to ride your moped?”

Merlin’s smile was warm and grateful, and Arthur could hear the thank you in his voice. “Of course you get to ride the moped. That’s not even question.”

* * *

“Talk to her, Arthur.”

“No.”

“Talk to her.”

“ _No!_ ”

“I’m going to throw you in the lake if you don’t go and talk to your sister.”

Arthur glared at Merlin from under his Aviators, but the son of Hades just grinned back at him from where he was laying horizontally across Fireworks Beach. Arthur glared out over Long Island South, not willing himself to be drawn in by Merlin’s petty threats.

“Arthur,” Merlin rolled onto his side to face him, his own sunglasses slipping from his face as he pushed them up on his nose. Children of the Underworld, Arthur learned, did not have a problem with sunlight. That was a trait entirely unique to Merlin. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Arthur gazed across the beach where Morgana was currently laid out on a towel, Morgause having departed a few moments before for who the hell knew where. It was the first time Arthur had seen her without her sister, and he had planned on taking advantage of it, but he was having difficulties moving his body.

Merlin’s gaze was watchful and expectant, though, and Arthur sighed loudly and dramatically. “Fine, fine, I’ll go and talk to her!”

“Great,” Merlin grinned and flopped back into his back, closing his eyes and humming. “Wake me when you return.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and shoved at Merlin as he stood up, stretching his legs and cracking his neck. With one last glance down at Merlin and another at Morgana’s unsuspecting form, he headed across the busy beach. It was a Saturday afternoon, where they had free time for the three hours before dinner, on a beautiful and sunny day – Naturally, everyone headed toward the beach, although Arthur had to poke and prod at Merlin to get him to willingly head into natural light.

Now he was regretting that decision.

It would have only taken him fifteen seconds to reach Morgana, but he managed to double that time by walking purposefully slowly. Ever since Capture the Flag, which had occurred more than two weeks ago, she had barely spoken to him and he didn’t know why. Merlin said it was out of jealousy with no indications that she had nothing to be jealous of – Arthur still hadn’t confronted Merlin about letting him win, either.

Arthur and confrontations weren’t getting along as of late.

Morgana, though, Morgana he could deal with. Maybe. Possibly.

He purposefully cleared his throat when he reached her bikini-clad form. She opened her eyes, and upon recognizing him, sat up, a confused and defensive expression on her face. “Arthur. What are you doing here?”

“What, can’t I talk to my sister?” Arthur knelt down next to her, rocking back and his heels before settling into a seated position. Morgana gave him a skeptical gaze over her glasses and Arthur sighed.

“Look, you’ve been avoiding me, and I kind of want to know why,” Arthur said, figuring that honesty was the best policy in this kind of situation. Morgana looked away from him and down at her dark red beach towel.

“It’s nothing against you,” Morgana’s voice was carefully controlled. “I just…I have all these other siblings now, and I want to get to know them. I don’t want to be tied to half-brother who isn’t really my brother here.”

“Of course I’m your brother!” Arthur exclaimed, insulted. “No matter what these people say. I’m your brother. We have the same father; we grew up together. Who said I wasn’t your brother? It was Morgause, wasn’t it?”

“She says that the human side doesn’t mean as much as the godly side,” Morgana’s eyes flashed at his, and Arthur’s mouth twisted upward in shock.

“Bullshit!” He said, shaking his head and cursing this other daughter of Eris. “There’s a reason this place is called Camp _Half_ -Blood. It’s for people who are half gods, and half _human_. We always knew we had different mothers, how does the fact that they’re immortal, all-powerful goddesses change anything?”

“It just does!” Morgana turned to face him fully now, fists clenched and eyes stormy. “You…Your mother’s well-liked, well-respected. Mine – mine isn’t.” Her voice went softer on the edges, though it kept up all of its steel. “She started the Trojan War, and ever since then, she’s been treated horribly by all the gods. Morgause says she hates them all, fought with the Titans in the second war, and she love only for her children, and for chaos.”

 “Morgana,” Arthur reached a hand out to hold her shoulder. She was shaking beneath his touch, though her gaze was still sharp on his. “I don’t care who your mother is, or who mine is. You’re my little sister, and nothing will ever change that.”

“Not even your rampant popularity and success?” She asked with a bitter laugh.

Arthur shook his head as he looked at the sand beneath their toes, just the slightest bit wet from ocean spray. “Want to know a secret? I should never have won at Capture the Flag. I’m positive Merlin let me win.”

Morgana’s eyebrows shot up and for a moment, she sounded like her old self again. “Really?”

“Really,” Arthur laughed before he turned serious once more. “I just…Morgana, I just want to be your brother again. That’s all.”

“I – I can do that,” Morgana’s looked at him with a mix of curiosity and shame. “I have to go, Arthur. But you are – you’re still my brother. I promise.”

Collecting her towel and her glasses, Morgana hurriedly got to her feet and strode away at top speed, not looking back. Arthur didn’t believe for one second that she had to leave, but he respected her enough not to follow. She never liked having anyone see her cry, after all.

“What was that about?” A figure dropped into Morgana’s vacated spot and Arthur looked up to see Leon, barefoot and jeans rolled up to his knees.

“Just talking to my sister,” Arthur said with a shrug, not feeling like disclosing any more of the conversation. “Why? Did you hear any of it?”

“I may have overheard the bit about Merlin letting you win at Capture the Flag,” Leon regarded him with a tone of respect as Arthur’s neck jolted to face him with shock. “I’m glad you figured that out on your own. I was worried I’d have to tell you.”

“Wait – you knew he let me win?” Arthur blinked, confused. Leon just nodded, a bit bemused at Arthur’s surprise.

“If you beat Merlin in a fight, he must have let you win,” Leon told him with utmost seriousness. “There’s no other way you could have done it. Trust me, I know Merlin better than anyone else here – actually, I’m the only one who _wants_ to know Merlin this well. Except for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur asked, miffed at Leon’s lack of faith in his skills and at how well he appeared to be in tune with Merlin.

“It means that when you look at him, it’s not with revulsion or mistrust, like most every camper here,” Leon said with a shrug. “You look at him like he’s a mystery that you want to solve. Well, that and the literal hearts that come out of your eyes every time you see him.”

“What – what – I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Arthur said, although there was a part of him locked deep down in his chest that knew exactly what Leon was referring too.

The look Leon gave him was all too knowing, and Arthur glared at him menacingly. “What about you and Gwen, huh? What about that tragic love affair? She and Lancelot broke up, I hope you know. What are you waiting for? Because if anyone around here has hearts in their eyes, it’s _you_.”

Leon shifted uncomfortably under Arthur’s words, which thrilled him to no certain level, mainly because he was able to change the subject successfully. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Not really,” Arthur said in a sing-song voice. His eyes searched around the beach until they zeroed on who he was looking for. “Look, Leon.” He pointed a little way down the beach to Gwen, dressed in a fitting one-piece red suit and not covered in elbow grease for once. “There she is. All alone. Go on, now, it’s not that difficult.”

“No,” Leon gave him a pleading look. “You can’t make me do this.”

“Yes, I can,” Arthur nodded. “And I will.”

“God, you’re such a little brother,” Leon groaned and let his head fall between his knees.

Arthur just laughed. “Yes, Leon, that’s exactly what I am. I am your little brother. Now _go_.”

Leon, after one final ‘ _please don’t make me do this’_ , departed for Gwen’s towel. Arthur grinned after him for a moment before turning and heading in the opposite direction, back to where Merlin had covered his entire body with his towel in order to hide himself from the sun. Arthur could hear him snoring lightly underneath it, though, and he grinned down at the sleeping figure.

“Get up, lazy,” he said, repeatedly kicking Merlin’s legs, making the black towel emit low groans. “I talked to Morgana like you asked, and then used your annoying persuasion techniques on Leon to make him go talk to Gwen. Be proud of me.”

“I’m very proud,” came Merlin’s muffled voice before he pulled the towel over his head and regarded Arthur with bedhead and a sleepy expression that made Arthur laugh far too much. “Ugh, I hate sunny days.”

“Do you also hate puppies and rainbows?” Arthur chuckled down at him and Merlin made a face.

“Come back to the Hades cabin with me. It’s dark and windowless and I have a DVD player. Think about it, Arthur. We could be watching Die Hard right now.”

Arthur stopped himself from smiling too much. “Do you have popcorn?”

“I will get us some popcorn.”

Later, leaning against Merlin’s bunk in a room entirely encased in black obsidian that should have made Arthur extremely uncomfortable, but didn’t, with his head resting on Merlin’s shoulder as he looked at the TV without really seeing it, he realized exactly what Leon had meant by heart eyes.

* * *

 

“Arthur, why are we alone in the amphitheater when everyone else is at dinner?”

When Arthur asked Merlin to follow him after they had finished sword fighting, he hadn’t quite known exactly what he wanted to say, only that he wanted to say _something._ And with Merlin leaning against a stone pillar with an expectant eyebrow raised Arthur’s pacing form, he was further away from every discovering what that _something_ was.

“You’re not dying of some horrible disease, are you?” Merlin asked, obviously jokingly, with a hint of a grin on his face. “Cause I could make a deal with devil for that. I am technically half the devil myself, so I could find like…eight different ways around that. Nine, if I really wanted to try.”

Arthur looked over at Merlin, shaking his head in wonder, exasperation, and laughter all at once. “How…How are you a son of Hades?”

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked without missing a beat. Arthur knew from experience that if anyone else asked that question, Merlin would become defensive and tetchy, over his life, his personality, his father – but he just blinked unassumingly when Arthur asked.

“You’re just so….alive.”

Merlin bit his lip as he grinned over at Arthur, a pink blush staining his normally pale cheeks and Arthur was all too aware of his heart tapping out a beat. “You’re the first person to ever say that to me before. Everyone else…” he laughed humorlessly, eyes downcast. “Gaius has always said I was born with one foot in the grave, and that I have a subconscious wish for the rest of me to join it there.”

“That’s not true,” Arthur shook his head before meeting Merlin’s eyes, terrifying, beautiful, and uncertain. “Is it?”

“I have no idea,” Merlin gestured at the air for a moment for gazing at Arthur with genuine interest and hints of confusion. “What are we talking about this for?”

“I – I know you let me win, that first time we played Capture the Flag.” Arthur surprised himself, frowning at his confession. He hadn’t been planning on saying that, not at all, but Merlin’s reaction of scuffing his shoes against the dirt and wringing his hands made him glad he did.

“Ah,” he said quietly. “You figured that out, then.”

“I didn’t – why?” Arthur figured that as long as he brought the matter up, he might as well get some answers about it.

“Because I liked it when you smiled,” Merlin’s eyes studiously fixated on the ground as unexpected warmth flooded Arthur’s body. “And Gaius told me that you didn’t know if you were going to be staying at camp, and…I really wanted you to stay.”

“You barely knew me,” was the only thing Arthur could think to say.

“Yes, well,” Merlin smiled softly. “You weren’t afraid of me. Not like everyone else. I just...I thought I could make a friend. As I’ve demonstrated countless times before, that is _not_ one of my talents.”

“Like I said,” Arthur shook his head as he tried to control all of his thoughts and impulses and gods, _Merlin._ “You, a son of Hades. It makes no sense. _You_ make sense.”

“That is one of my talents,” Merlin pointed at Arthur, still looking at his shoes. “Not making sense. I’m very good at that.”

“I’ve noticed,” Arthur chuckled and tried not to show just how much he was shaking. “You’re a…mystery that I wish I could solve.”

“I think I’d like it,” Merlin said, taking a tentative step toward Arthur, and Arthur resisted the dual urge to step backward and forward at the same time. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to solve the enigma that is me.”

“Good,” Arthur’s voice came out slightly strangled, but Merlin’s voice spoke, both out in front of him and through the shadows the pillars and into his ear.

“It’s okay.”

They were kissing in the next second, softly, gently, not like any kiss Arthur had ever experienced. He opened his mouth just a touch more, giving more access to Merlin’s wandering tongue that matched his hands, one of them curling around Arthur’s neck and the other reaching for his hair, and Arthur’s hands had somehow found their away to Merlin’s waist, and if this went on for much longer Arthur was going to be seeing stars for days –

Suddenly, a conch horn blew, one, two, three times, and the two of them broke apart, both blushing furiously, and Merlin spoke hurriedly as he latched his fingers with Arthur’s, which made both of them grin far too much.

“That – that means there’s an emergency meeting,” Merlin explained as he began walking toward the entryway to the amphitheater that would lead them toward the rest of the campers. “I bet it’s a quest.”

“A quest?” Arthur raised an eyebrow as he grinned, adventure bubbling up in his chest. “Exciting.”

Merlin bumped his hip against Arthur’s as they walked side by side. “I’ll bet you anything it’s for you.”

Arthur shook his head, biting his lip as he squeezed Merlin’s hand tighter. “You mean us. I’m not going anywhere unless you’re coming with me.”


End file.
